The Eye Of The Beholder
by Somebody Once
Summary: Dean's worried, he has reason to be. Sam's having premonitions. An evil far more deadly than they've ever encountered lurks in the wings.
1. Chapter 1

In his dream he sees it all…

_A hand…_

_An image…_

_A mirror image…_

_His Image…_

_Bloody Mary…_

_The mirror cracks…_

_Bloody Mary…_

_It's going to kill you…_

_Bloody Mary…_

_She reaches out, this monster, she reaches out and pulls him, pulls him screaming into the mirror, her hands outstretched she claws for his eyes…her nails sharp, her breath cold against his clammy cheek, she wants to scratch his eyes out, she wants to make it so he never sees again…_

_He stares into her eyes, great black voids, and he feels nothing…absolutely nothing…because it's not that monster infront of him anymore…_

_'Why didn't you save me Sam?'_

_**It's Jess.**_

'Ahhh!'

The sound of the scream has Dean reaching immediately for his knife. He sits up every nerve screaming to save his brother…

'take your brother outside Dean, go…now…'

Wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? He had to look after Sam. If it was the last thing he did.

Dean expels a breath in a whoosh as he finally realises Sam is sitting bolt upright staring ahead, there is nothing attacking him, nothing burning above him as Dean had feared. He lowers the knife and sighs 'Jesus Sammy, you scared me half to death dude…you alright?'

At Sam's lack of response Dean lifts the cover and steps towards his little brother, 'hey Sammy?'

Sam continues to stare ahead and Dean swallows a feeling of dread washing over him.

'Sam?'

His little brother has not been himself lately. In fact Dean fears he'll never be himself again. Gone is the innocence, the faith in humanity, that vibrant optimism that had once separated him so completely from his family, so tangibly…

Sam is a mess.

His baby brother is destroyed, he doesn't sleep anymore, he barely eats, he spends every spare moment when they aren't working a case staring from the window or at a wall…he loved her…jess…and now she's dead.

Dean knows Sam blames himself, it's a Winchester trait. Doesn't make it any harder to accept though. Doesn't make it any easier to watch your little brother collapse in on himself, the guilt eating him up inside.

'Hey Sammy?' Dean attempts softly, hand to his brother's shoulder, hoping to wake him, 'come on buddy, wake up.'

Sam jolts then, his entire body becomes rigid and his eyes focus, though they don't lose the demons that haunt them.

'You alright Sam?'

The youngest Winchester stares at his brother for a beat before jumping to his feet and rushing from the room.

For a moment, for one foolish moment Dean is hurt. Hurt that Sam is shutting down, not letting him in…like he'd done before…leaving for College…closing out the family…

Then he hears the awful sound of his little brother retching and he's on his feet heading for the bathroom.

'Hey…hey…come on man…' he attempts desperately trying to soothe him, 'it's alright…just let it all out.'

He leans down on his knees and rubs Sam's back as the younger man clings to the toilet desperately emptying the contents of his already too empty stomach.

Dean feels helpless and more concerned than ever. Sam is falling apart. And he can do nothing…nothing to stop it.

He was supposed to get out.

That's what Dean can't get over.

Sam was supposed to get out.

Two years before when he'd announced his intentions to go to College…to have a normal life. His father had been furious and Dean had been hurt.

His father screamed, ranted, told Sam to keep on walking, if he walked out on them then, he had of course been lying.

He hadn't meant it.

Dean had seen it in the obvious, unsubtle way John Winchester's hands shook as they gripped his baby by the shoulders, and desperately attempted to shake some sense into him. He heard the true meaning behind the recriminations…

'You walk out now, you walk out on this family'.

_We need you Sammy._

'You're not going to delude yourself into living a normal life Sam…you're never going to be normal…'

_We can't protect you if you're on your own._

'You walk out that door you keep on walking, you don't come back…'

_We love you Sam, we can't let you go, don't leave us._

Sam had gone of course. At the final echo of the slammed door John's shoulders had slumped and he'd collapsed to the floor like a baby, raking his hands through his hair. Shaking off an already distraught Dean's offer of comfort.

They had lost him.

Their Sam.

Albeit not in the same way they'd lost Mary…but in the same…mind numbingly cruel twist of fate…Sam had ripped himself away from them…

It was hard for Dean.

He loved Sam more than anything. He would protect him with his life. Always.

But he couldn't protect him if he wasn't there anymore.

And he couldn't begin to understand the reasoning.

Then again he had been 5 when he lost his mother. Could remember five years of band aids and butterfly kisses and hugs like you were the most important thing on earth…the only thing…

Sam had no such memory. Where his mother's arms had once held Dean, Sam knew only of the shaking arms of his father or Dean, holding him back from the monsters, the cold hard demons of the world, demons no child should ever have had to face. Where Dean's hand once held a softer one that smelled of camomile and lavender, Sam's had known only the cold, metallic, chill of a gun.

They were different were Sam and him. But not that different. In some ways they were hardly different at all.

They weren't big on sharing the Winchester men, without the loving arms, and the thoughtful impact of Mary in their lives they were left closed off emotionally, they had difficulty expressing their feelings, they lived their lives out of pizza boxes and highway codes…one town to the next to the next…they couldn't stay in a place for long…it wasn't safe…couldn't stray too far off the path…the path to find their mother's killer…their father's obsession.

Attachment was out of the question.

They relied on each other.

Only each other.

Was it any wonder then that it was such a shock to Dean and John when Sam announced his intentions to leave, to study. Dean guesses it shouldn't have been. It was though.

He remembers when Sam was seven and they hunted a banshee in Philadelphia. It hadn't been easy, had required a months worth of time to sort out…the corpse had to be dug up…beheaded…

Sam hadn't wanted to leave, when the time came, he had cried, he had cried desperately, he had made friends, he didn't want to go…not again…

Dean tried to comfort him. Had reached over to cuddle him that night, to stop his little body shaking from the sobs, but to no avail. Sam even at seven years old had learned the cruelty of the world. Truth be told he'd known it from six months old when that first drop of blood landed on his tiny baby forehead.

They couldn't stay.

Had to keep moving.

It wasn't safe.

Nowhere was ever safe.

That was the irony.

Dean's fingers tenderly trace his brothers back. He remembers. He never forgets. He pretends sometimes…for Sam's sake as much as his own…pretends it was all an adventure growing up…pretends he remembers only the excitement, the thrill of it all…

Dean's an exceptional liar.

It was a waking nightmare…he slept with a knife under his pillow since he was five years old. Hell he still does. Their childhood wasn't filled with trips to the seaside, unless you counted the time when they had to ward off the evil Sirens that lured the sailors to the rocks in the Pacific North West. It was hard…and it was dark…and they were taught to trust no one, nothing but each other.

Only each other.

'Talk to me Sammy.' Dean whispers as his brother continues to throw up. Sam hates it when he calls him Sammy, but a part of Dean, if he's honest, most of him, needs that, at least if he keeps up the name, he can remember the Sammy that wouldn't sleep unless Dean was in bed beside him. The little boy that bit his bottom lip and wordlessly took the gun to stifle his fear of the dark. The baby brother that always cheered them up, that brought a little light to their world of darkness in the way he smiled or laughed. The way he toddled around trying to walk…the smile on his little face threatening to burst.

Dean can't remember the last time Sam smiled. He remembers Sammy's smile though. Remembers the innocence in that. Maybe he can get that back if he keeps using the name, maybe in time they both can.

'Oh…' Sam moans weakly. Head bent. 'I'm ok.' He whispers pulling back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Dean sits beside him on the bathroom floor. 'Jess?' He asks, already knowing the answer.

Sam nods, frowns further, 'yeah but there was something different this time.'

'What?'

He shuts down then, snaps out of his semi trance and offers a weak smile at his elder brother, 'nothing it's fine…lets go back to sleep.'

'Sam.'

'Dean, it's nothing alright, just my freaky imagination as always, you know how it is.'

Dean knows. He also knows Sam is holding back. Still it doesn't matter cos if Sam's made up his mind about something he won't be moved. Unfortunately this trait is something he shares with his father. Dean sighs, not wanting to let this go…

'Come on Sam…talk to me dude…'

'I said it's nothing.' His tone is harsh now and he stumbles to his feet, making his way back to the bed.

Conversation closed.

Dean's phone rings, snapping him from his brotherly worry.

'Hello?'

The caller is halting in her story, sniffles and sobs breaking it up. Dean nods and murmurs quietly to the girl who had requested their help. 'Ok, we'll be there.'

Sam sits now, very alert, though still pale on the edge of his bed. 'What is it?' He asks his elder brother, seeing the interested gleam in his eye.

'Ok so Hannah tells me this you know her boyfriend?'

'The guy who went missing?'

'Yeah, well apparently one of his friends came to her tonight…he told her something about how he was murdered…'

'Ok…'

'Yeah…he claims he was there when it happened…' Dean's forehead wrinkles in disbelief, 'you're not going to believe what he's saying.'

Sam is getting impatient, 'What?'

'He claims that Jack was pulled into a mirror…' he announces, unaware of the ripple of shock that runs through his little brother's body at his words.

'That's not possible.' Sam whispers, the hairs standing up on the back of his arm, as he remembers his dream.

'Yeah and get this dude, she says the thing that pulled him through the mirror…it wasn't human…' Dean raises an eyebrow critically, 'it was…'

Sam doesn't give him a chance to complete his sentence and he jumps in already knowing the answer, 'Bloody Mary.'

His heart pounds sickeningly in his chest and his palms sweat madly.

Dean's mouth drops open, how did Sam know that?

'Yeah…how did you…'

Sam's throat feels as dry as parchment as he steadies himself and takes a ragged breath, 'it was in my dream Dean…bloody Mary…I saw what happened next…'

'What do you mean Sam? What do you mean? What happens next?'

'She comes through the mirror, she comes through and she scratches your eyes out, she takes you and she doesn't let go…'

'Takes who Sam?' Dean whispers in disbelief, 'takes who, we need to warn the next person, we need to stop this.'

'We just did warn him Dean.' Sam replies a distinct edge to his voice, 'it's me man…she's coming after me.'


	2. Eyes Wide Shut

Dean's hands grip the wheel tightly as Sam stares listlessly into space. The elder Winchester attempts to keep his hands at the 2 o'clock position but the perspiration is making it difficult.

Sam is keeping him in the dark.

He hates it.

He is the big brother here, not Sam. He should be the one with all the knowledge, with all the answers…Sam should at least give him the chance to pretend he is in control.

Sam doesn't.

_'Look…you're my brother…and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.'_

Like what? Dean can't stop thinking, like freaking what? It terrifies him and saddens him in equal measures at the thought that his little brother is holding something back about Jessica's death. What could it possibly be? And more importantly is it something that could endanger Sam?

Dean hates being kept in the dark.

He doesn't do helpless.

It's not in him.

Not who he is.

He is Dean Winchester, some time play boy, sometime charmer, all time kidder, he is strong and protective and always in control. Dean Winchester is not helpless.

'You need to tell me Sam…'

Sam stares from the window and emits a sigh, a frown creasing his forehead, that gaze that sees too much already closed off once more.

'No Dean…I don't.'

'Look Sammy if this is something that could hurt you or us you need to tell me man.'

'You don't need to know.'

'Is this about the dream?' Dean probes and Sam flinches, not obviously but Dean notices.

Sam turns to him an eyebrow raised unable to hide the look of fear that has shot to his dark eyes. Odd eyes really, Sams'. They are the same blue/green of his and his fathers but the shape of them, the almond shape are all his mothers. That much Dean remembers.

Dean keeps his eyes on the road, glancing at his brother only once. 'You know the nightmares you've been having?'

Dean prides himself on noticing many things invisible to the naked eye, if he had realised he'd missed Sam's deep shudder of relief he'd probably have kicked himself. Sam schools his face again…for a moment there he thought Dean had sussed it out. The premonitions…Dean isn't talking about them though, he is just talking about the nightmares.

Sam can deal with Dean's questioning about that, but not about the premonitions, he wants Dean kept out of it. After Sam had 'seen' the bloody Mary figure in his dream and had his little outburst in the hotel room he'd told Dean he'd been reading some urban legend myth book the night before and the legend had stuck in his head and he'd obviously dreamed about it. No big deal. Nothing weird, just a dream…

Just a dream…if only…

Luckily Dean had believed him, he had no reason to assume Sam was lying.

But Sam was lying.

Sam's been lying a long time now.

And it started before Jess was killed.

Sam always knew he was different, not just different in the sense he learned to shoot a gun before most kids learned to walk or that he spent most of his days hunting the creatures that most people believed only existed in their darkest nightmares…No Sam was even more different.

Because Sam _saw_ things.

_He saw things before they happened._

It had started when he was very young this sense of knowledge of some all seeing power that meant he could sense things, feel things before they occurred. He always knew when his father or Dean was in trouble before they screamed for him or one another. They were so busy trying to protect him from whatever monster they encountered that they hadn't even noticed. They hadn't noticed that at times when the werewolf or zombie, or wendigo was right on them, Sam would be there, smashing its skull in with whatever tool he could find.

Good reflexes his father said.

He never noticed that Sam was there a good few seconds before the creature even attacked.

His father was blind. Blinded by the quest for vengeance, all these years Sam had grown up pissed about that and he finally learned how his Dad must have felt…only to have him vanish on him.

The irony was almost laughable.

The feelings were strong, and usually always right, but they weren't full on premonitions, not until the month before Jess died when he was woken from his slumber by a force so strong it took his breath away and left him gasping for air beside his still sleeping girlfriend.

He had seen it clear as day, he saw himself coming home, he saw fire and burning flames and Jess screaming his name, screaming for him to save her. He saw.

But he didn't believe.

Didn't trust it.

Wouldn't go there, wouldn't fully let himself believe it.

He couldn't lose Jess, not like his mother, nope these visions must have been stories he'd heard about his mother's death from Dean and his father. He must have been conjuring up things.

That was what Sam told himself.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

Nothing was going to happen to Jessica.

Never mind that he had the same dream every night for weeks before, never mind that leaving to go with Dean a small part of him, if he ever let himself admit it, KNEW that something was going to happen…Sam refused to believe it.

_Sam was wrong._

When those flames had taken hold, they'd licked against the white skin of his girlfriend, they'd shot from the ceiling like they had a mind of their own. Sam had lay on his bed and even as he screamed and screamed he was enraptured by them.

They licked and flickered and hissed against her skin but all Sam could hear was his name…

They were hissing out his name…

_Sammy…_

_Sammy…_

_Sammy…_

'Sammy! Sammy! Hey?' Dean's voice snaps him from his trance. He can't tell Dean about the premonitions, he needs to deal with this alone, and a part of him wants to protect his brother from the horrors inside his head. No one should have to see what he sees…

He deserves it though, Sam knows it. He knows that deep down he was the reason his mother died, he was the reason Jess died. Everything comes back to him. And he has no idea why.

Sam had seen all kinds of monsters in his time, but what kind of monster was he? That the only two women to ever love him were brutally murdered above his bed. He imagines he must have been an evil, twisted figure in a past life to be punished the way he has been.

'Tell me Sammy.' Dean growls now from the seat beside him.

Sam's not going to tell him.

He'll spin him some story…he'll tell some half assed truth to protect him.

And Dean…Dean will pretend to believe it.

* * *

Dean knows Sam is lying. This isn't just about the nightmares about Jess's death. It's more…much more…

He doesn't want to drop this.

Sam doesn't give him a choice.

He turns the stereo up loudly and for a moment they both welcome the thumping base breaking the air practically reeking with deceit in the car.

'So…' Dean breaks the silence, ' we're heading to a little town called…'

'Lost Creek'. Sam interrupts, eyes never leaving the window.

Dean frowns for a moment before shrugging it off and heading down the country road.

He didn't realise he already told Sam that.


	3. The Answers You Seek

'_Alright give it up Sammy, how the hell did you know that Siren was going to scream right then, how the hell did you know that, and don't give me some cock and bull story man I want the truth.'_

It didn't take long for Dean to cotton on to Sam's premonitions, contrary to what people seemed to assume, his big brother was far from stupid.

Sam's reluctant confession had Dean shocked, _'you're having what now?' _

'Premonitions, prophetic dreams, visions…'

'I know what premonitions are Sammy. When…I mean how…when did this happen?'

'A while ago now.'

'A while ago, freakin hell Sam, how long were you going to keep this little fact to yourself man?'

'You didn't need to know.'

'Oh I didn't need to know, I'm your brother Sam. Or does that count for nothing to you.'

'Of course it does.'

'You should have told me. I can't believe this…'

'I can't believe this…'

Sam snaps back to reality. Dean had been pissed he'd kept the premonitions secret, but that was the least of his worries. Things had gotton scary, they'd now gotton so scary Sam wasn't sure they'd recover from this. Because their past had finally caught up with them…

The creature, the one that had been haunting him all his life, the being that had kept him from sleeping, kept him from a normal life. It had found him. And it had once again taken someone he loved. And it wanted Sam for trade.

The clouds are unrelenting as he stares from the window, his eyes narrow and the stormy sky reflects inside his irises as he wills it to oppress him. To envelope him in its infinity and to swallow him up forever.

He doesn't know if he's strong enough. For this final fight. To face this thing. This monster. But it has his father. And so it has him.

Like it's always had him.

He can almost feel the coming rain in the air even though a drop has yet to touch the ground outside of the hotel. On the world's streets, such dangerous, dangerous streets. Sam's eyes gaze up into the masses of black clouds. He tries to see like he and Dean had as children, cloud pictures.

Today all he sees is grey. All he_knows_ is grey.

He has such a vague idea about what is about to happen that it makes the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end even now. His premonitions, up until this point, leading to this point had been vivid, accurate, complete. This last one he'd woken to this morning was hazy, incomplete and perhaps the most important of all.

Sam knows it's the last one he'll ever have. Don't ask how he just knows. This final climax, this final battle is going to change everything, for better or for worse he doesn't know. But the feeling in his gut is not optimism, it's for want of a better description – fear.

Sam had learned very early on not to be afraid for himself, Dean and his father were overprotective enough for him, but he feared for his father and he feared for the man stalking furiously before him.

'What did he say again?'

Sam sighs, runs a hand through his mop of dark hair, 'I already told you Dean.'

'Tell me again', comes the curt reply.

'He said to come to Millers Warehouse on 85th Street, he said if I didn't he'd kill Dad.'

Sam remembers the garbled voice even now, the way it sent tingles from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

'How do we even know he has Dad?' Dean grasps desperately at straws, 'Maybe this is all some stupid trick to get you there.'

'It's not a trick man, I heard Dad's voice. Hell I saw that much in my vision.'

_'Sam don't listen to him…leave me…' _

His father's voice echoing through the receiver had frozen Sam to the spot. He'd seen it of course in his vision, but he'd been praying and hoping with everything he had that he'd been wrong.

Dean exhales sharply and turns to his younger brother, 'tell me exactly what you saw in the dream again.'

Sam pauses, his back to his brother, staring from the window again. The clouds are closer now.

'Dad in a room – tied to a bed he's shouting my name. A shadow passing over him…'

Sam falters again, suddenly drained.

Dean notices. 'What? What else Sammy?'

Sam shakes his head weakly, deciding on the truth. 'Whatever it is Dean, it's what killed Mom, what killed Jess. I know it is…I can feel it…'

Dean's eyes darken to a color Sam's never seen before and he jerks forward gripping Sam by the shoulders roughly. His eyes preparing himself to say something he knows Sam's going to hate.

'I want you to stay here Sammy…you can't go there, you understand me…'

Sam's mouth drops open incredulously.

'I don't care what you saw man, this thing, whatever it is, it has some kind of hold over you, it has some kind of obsession with you, and we are NOT sending you right to the bastard alright. You stay here.'

'No way in hell.' Sam shouts back. 'This is my fight Dean, we both know that, I don't know why but I have to do this. You can't leave me behind like I'm six years old anymore. Don't you get it, this thing wants me. I won't risk Dad's life or yours by running away.'

'I'm not giving you a choice here Sammy.' Dean growls, desperate to stop his brother from doing this. 'You're staying here.'

'No…' Sam counters, 'I'm not.'

Dean shakes Sam then, he physically shakes him, hard. 'Do you think I'm just going to hand you to him Sammy? Just hand you over like some freaking prize for this thing to play with. You're my brother! You're my little brother, don't you get that you freaking idiot?'

Dean's shaking now, Sam can feel it in the tense muscles of his arms. His voice catches and Sam finds it impossible to look away.

Oh how he worships Dean.

He always has done.

He knew Dean wouldn't let him go, that he'd never let him go without a fight.

Doesn't mean he's staying though, Sam won't be moved on this. This is his fight. It always has been.

'I won't lose you Sammy. I can't.' Dean whispers now. Eyes suspiciously bright. Hands still clawing the shoulders of his brothers' shirt.

Sam places his hands over Dean's tight grip and gently, reverently unclasps his fingers. His own voice is wobbling as he struggles to keep a hold of himself, _'Dean…'_ he whispers softly, _'you don't have a choice.'_

* * *

Like hell he doesn't have a choice. Dean won't let this happen. He can't let this happen.

As usual Sammy is offering himself as sacrificial lamb and Dean can't watch this anymore. Enough is enough.

Sam's punished himself enough for Jess, for his mom even, enough is enough now. Enough is enough.

What the hell does this thing want with Sam.

Why him?

Why now?

What could possibly drive something to so much pain - so much hate that it murders two wonderful women and targets an innocent kid.

Well it won't get this kid.

Over Dean's dead body.

He means it too.

He'd die in a second before he'd let this monster touch one hair on his brothers' head.

He turns away from Sam now, as he earnestly stares at him. Dean can't bear it, he can't handle the determination, the resolute feeling in those eyes. Sam's going to go, and there's nothing Dean can do to stop him.

Except go with him, stand in front of him, protect him with his life.

Dad would have wanted that.

It frightens Dean now as he thinks about it. Normally Dean would have scoffed at these feelings of fear, repressed them, but he hasn't time for that now, now the feelings embalm him…

Their Dad must have known, he must have known the thing was after Sammy. In the way he had raised both boys, in the way he and Dean had guarded Sam with their lives. Their father had been aware, Dean realises now, just how important Sam was, just how much this thing wanted him.

Dean is overcome with shudders. His heart is ripped apart with conflicting feelings, he is overjoyed at the thought that his father is alive, but sickened that his return means he must bring Sam right into the devils lair. He knows that is the last thing his father would want, that any of them want.

Sam is theirs.

He isn't up for the taking.

Dean is itching to send this monster right back to hell where it belongs.

But he doesn't want to risk Sammy. He can't risk his little brother. Sam needs to stay.

In order to survive Sam must stay.

_Sam isn't going to stay._

_Dean knows it._

And it terrifies him, he can admit that.

Losing Sam would destroy him. He won't let it happen. He won't let Sam fall.

He'll be there, he'll be right there beside him, to catch him.

Before he hits the ground.

* * *

'I do have a choice Sammy, you see I'm 26 years old and do you know what that means?' Dean growls intensely. 'It means I am allowed to make decisions for myself, and you know what today's is? I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm not losing you to this.'

Sam falters as he keeps his back to his brother. His fingers touch the counter in the hotel room and his palm encircles the object on the surface, he knows what he has to do, his voice wobbles considerably, 'Dean please, let me do this.'

'No.' One word, so final, so resolute.

Sam steps towards his brother till he is looking him in the eye. He needs to go now. Time is running out, for all of them.

'I knew you'd say that you know.'

Dean says nothing.

Sam takes a long look at his brother, he smiles tearfully, nods, he moves his arms to encircle his brother. Dean's a little surprised but he holds him back and Sam embraces him, he places his head in his brothers' shoulder like they'd done as children, when Sam had had a nightmare or been upset about something.

'It's alright Sammy, I'm here, no one's going to hurt you, I'm here.' Dean would whisper.

And he'd be so sure…he'd sound so god damned sure that sometimes – sometimes – Sam believed him.

'Forgive me Dean?' Sam whispers softly into his shirt, so softly Dean can only just make it out.

'Forgive you for what?'

Dean's voice is hoarse and Sam chokes out a sob, 'Just say you forgive me?'

'Sammy…'

'Say it Dean…'

The urgency is so strong in Sam's voice that Dean can't refuse. He knows he'd forgive him anything anyway, but what is it Sam's talking about?

'I forgive you Sammy.' He whispers, arms still holding his little brother close, 'I forgive you.'

Sam squeezes his eyes shut tightly and then pulls it from his sleeve. He brings his arm back so rapidly and with such force that Dean doesn't even blink before the blow strikes him in the head and brings him crashing to the ground.

Sam drops the baton with a loud sob as Dean lies unconscious on the ground. It had to be done. He would never have let him go. He would have risked his own life. Sam couldn't have handled that.

He could never have handled that.

He slowly, reverently sinks to his knees, ignoring the tears that are beginning to make their way down his cheeks. He places a hand to his brothers' shoulder. He leans forward and kisses his forehead. He remembers the big brother that taught him how to shave, he remembers the stories Dean would tell him in the dark to quell his fears, he remembers night after night of just the two of them when their father was out drinking, or hunting or both. He remembers it all.

And that is exactly why he had to do this.

He rocks back on his heels, glances at Dean once more, 'I'm sorry.' He whispers. 'I can't let you fight this for me. I have to do this alone now.'

He climbs to his feet and grabs the automatic from the bedside table, it's as he reaches the door he pauses, he looks back once more, 'I love you Dean.'

The door closes behind him.

* * *

Sam brings Dean's car to a stop as he pulls up at the address that the caller, the plague of his waking nightmares had told him. The warehouse is dark and cold and silent, horrifyingly silent as Sam's feet crunch against the tarmac. He clings to the worn rucksack tightly suddenly wishing Dean was beside him.

He always felt safe with him at his side.

But he's not.

Sam is alone.

And for the first time he is terrified by the realisation that this could be the end, that in all probability this IS the end. For him.

Sam shakes the hair from his eyes as he tries to adjust to the never-ending darkness, he won't go down without a fight. He'll set his father free and then he'll get answers. Answers he'd longed for his whole life. About his mother, about Jess, why him, why did this thing, this being want him? Sam doesn't know if he'll win this fight, he fears he won't, but he knows one thing. He'll get some answers.

He isn't surprised that his feet find the room from his vision, he isn't even surprised to see the bound and gagged form of John Winchester on the slab before him. He is surprised however at the overwhelming rush of love that consumes him the moment John's haunted eyes rest upon his youngest sons'.

'Dad.'

So much feeling, so much emotion in that one word.

His dad.

His dad lies eyeing Sam, obvious tears in his eyes. He wriggles desperately against the ropes.

Sam has missed him.

Sam has missed him so much it hurts.

There were times when all he'd wanted was his father's arms holding him close, telling him it'd be alright. After Jess…his father knew how that felt, he knew, and he wasn't there. He wasn't there for him.

Dean was.

Sam rushes forward and cuts at the ropes with the knife he retrieves from the rucksack.

He tears the gag from his father's mouth.

'Sam…Sammy…' John coughs in disbelief. 'I told you not to come…what…we have to get out of here.'

He pauses a moment and pulls Sam into the tightest hug he's ever felt in his whole life. Sam melts into the hug. He needs it right now, needs it like oxygen.

'Dad…oh dad.'

For a moment they hold one another. Then John pulls back.

'Where's Dean?'

Sam's mouth drops open to reply when a dark shadow crosses over his father's form. Sam recognises this from his vision. That is where the vision stopped. It was all a mystery from here.

A mystery that feels all wrong.

'Back at the hotel.' Sam throws back, helping his father to his feet, 'Dad, we don't have time for this. We have to go now.'

John hobbles to his feet.

'You're right.'

Sam grips his father's waist and supports the older man thrusting the automatic into his palm for protection as they stumble blindly through the darkness.

They are nearing the entrance when for some reason Sam feels compelled to stop. Something makes him stop and he turns to his father, needing to know, needing to find out.

'Dad the thing, that thing that took you, did you see it? What…' Sam swallows not sure if he's ready for the answer, 'what did it look like?'

John removes Sam's arm from around his waist and turns standing before his son. His eyes take on a haunted look.

Sam is completely unprepared when the man he thought was his father brings back the butt of the automatic and smashes it into his skull.

John stands over the prone body before him and smiles in the darkness…

_'It looked kind of like me.'_


	4. Keep your Friends Close

It's dark

Why is it so freaking dark?

The dark wraps itself around him like a never ending inky blanket.

Dean shifts, feels fur against his face, his cheek is warm pressed to something fuzzy, soft.

What?

He comes to awareness and for the first time he feels the dull throbbing pain in the back of his skull.

'Uhhhhhh', he manages as he cracks open his eyes.

Nope, the room's still spinning.

Gingerly he pulls himself into an upright position, touches the back of his head, winces.

'What the hell happened?'

It takes him four seconds to get his bearings…

It takes him five to remember…

'Sammy!'

* * *

'You know sometimes I get flashes…'

Comes the voice, a voice he has loved his whole life, a voice that meant something to him.

_That had once meant strength…courage…protector…_

'Of the future you might say…or of some parallel plane of existence, some other world…'

_A voice that meant heart and soul…_

'It was 22 years ago when I saw it…22 years ago…you know what I saw little baby Sammy…'

_A voice that meant truth…_

'I saw you.'

_A voice that meant dad._

'And you were killing me.'

_A voice that now belonged to a monster._

The monster from his nightmares, from the darkest recesses of his mind. It was the darkness he'd tried his whole life to hide from.

Sam wriggled against the force. He couldn't get free, he couldn't get out. He couldn't make sense of all this. This wasn't his father. But he had his face, his mannerisms, immediately he is torn back to the shape shifter that morphed into his brother in one of their earlier cases. That must be what had happened, something had morphed into his father, the big bad had morphed into his dad, that was it.

Only why did Sam have the sickening feeling it was more than that. So much more.

What did it mean, he was killing it? What the hell was going on?

Sam struggles in the darkness to work out where he is. It's too dark to see, he can see only the moonlight on the person below. Only the moonlight…

The face of his father looked up at him, it snarled, bearing his father's teeth, the teeth Sam remembered being chipped and recapped after their too close brush with a poltergeist in Oakland, the lips that had hushed goodnight to him all those times in the darkness now sneer up at him, cold and suddenly alien.

_Sam feels sick._

'What…' he gasps out, terrified of the answer, 'are you?'

'I'm your father.'

'You're _not_ my father.' Sam vehemently spits out.

'Alright I guess you're right, I'm not your biological father, but I am your father in every sense of the word.'

'What do you mean?' Sam questions desperately.

'Oh Sam, Sammy, Sammy, Sam…' the beast murmurs shaking its head back and forth and stalking absently across the floor. 'I'm surprised at you, really I am, you'd think with that great College education you'd have worked it out by now…it's like that time when you were four and you spent the longest time working out how to do up your shoe laces, you were so good at the big things Sammy, the big problems, not so good at the little more obvious ones though were you…you weren't so good at those.'

'Stop with the mind games.' Sam snarls, figuring the shape shifter is downloading his father's thoughts like he did Deans. _'Where.is.my.father?'_

'I told you, right here…I knew it would come to this you know…eventually, I just knew it'd come down to us Sammy. You see Dean, he's very good, very aware, too good at seeing things introspectively, he figures them out Sam. He and I were always more similar that way. But you…you were the threat, you always have been. I'm not your father.' He walks through the shadows, and stands stock still so Sam can't even see his face anymore.

'22 years ago I was in San Antonio, I was living the high life, you know raping, murdering, and you know what Sammy, I was getting away with it, every time they tried to put me in jail, I'd turn into someone else, so they weren't looking for me anymore, sometimes for the fun of it I'd let them put me in the slammer, then I'd turn into a guard, and walk on out of there. Oh I was good Sam, I was so damned good.'

_Sam feels a shiver run up his spine, he can't move, why can't he get his arms free, he's pinned._

'I used to get flashes, like I said, of the future. Little tiny fragments of visions. A flash of my victims, of who would be my next kill. It was all rather entertaining really…'

_Sam frowns in the darkness. A shape shifter with premonitions, this is a new one._

'So one day, I am burying my latest conquest, pretty little thing, screamed more than I liked, but pretty all the same…and I saw it. I saw a flash, it was like none I'd had before Sammy…'

'Don't call me that.' Sam spits out, unable to handle the way this thing that isn't his father speaks in the exact tone, and way his father had.

It ignores him.

'It was you Sammy. I saw you. And you were killing me.'

_Sam's heart stops! What?_

'You were putting a bullet right here.'

Sam can't see but he knows the thing is gesturing to its' temple.

'I started getting these flashes more and more, I would see you writing in a book with your name on it…Sam Winchester…I saw you laughing with Dean, I saw you kissing your little Jessica, I saw you sitting around having freaking Sunday dinner with your family. Your mom was beautiful in these flashes I had, she'd be smiling at you, doting on you men. It made me sick. This was your future, it wasn't mine anymore and you were taking mine away from me. All I knew was that you killed me. You were going to kill me. One night I saw how it happened, I had her in my arms, I had my hand across her mouth, I was trying to rape your Jess Sammy. You broke into the bedroom, screaming, you shot me Sam. Bam…' He holds his fingers up like a gun to his temple, 'right between the eyes.'

Sam inhales sharply, _oh god._

'I had to find you of course. I had to destroy you, you couldn't be allowed to exist, it was a while before I'd had enough visions of your future to find you. Eventually I saw your address in a vision of you writing some form for law school or something. And I had it. I had waited a long time to get that address Sammy, I waited a long time for you.'

He begins pacing again, the voice that belongs to his father but at the same time couldn't be more different.

'So I drove there, to Kansas, Lawrence, nice suburban little town. I drove to the house, I had no idea how old you'd be if I'd be murdering a kid, an adult I didn't care, but you didn't look very old when you shot me in my visions. You couldn't have been more than 20. I pull up at this house, and I climb onto the roof and through the window. I was in your closet a good hour before they came to put you to bed. I heard their voices you know, voices I knew so well, they felt almost like my own family.'

Mary carried Dean in, I could see them through the crack in the door, _'Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother.'_

Dean kissed your forehead, _'Good night Sam.'_

Mary smiled down at you her smile so sickeningly sweet, I wanted her beneath me right then and there, I wanted her screaming and lifeless, but I had waited long enough for you, for that moment, I couldn't move yet, _'Good night, love.'_ That's what she said Sammy, incase you ever wanted to know, what her last words were to you, _'goodnight love.'_

_Sam struggles to stop the tears that are stinging at his eyes. No._

And then I saw your father, ah John, strong, stupid, living in his perfect little uncomplicated world, and you know what, I wanted to destroy him.

_'Sweet Dreams Sam.'_

He wandered out and I stayed for a while, just watching you. I stood over your crib. You looked at me Sam…you looked right at me…and I have never hated anything so much in all my life. I figured I'd just strangle you, or smother you. So much had led to that moment in your room. I was about to take my destiny and yours in my hands and change them.

But your mother had to ruin that. I almost had you when she came to the door, I couldn't believe my luck when she believed I was your dad. But then she had to ruin it with the screaming and the second appearance in the doorway. I didn't want to kill Mary like that Sam, I at least wanted to have a little fun with her first but you were too important, and I couldn't let you live and she wasn't letting you die. Stupid woman got in the way, she stood between you and the crib. So I stabbed her. I slashed her open Sammy. And then I burned her, I pinned her to the ceiling and I burned her.'

Sam lets out an anguished cry _'NOOOOOOOOOOO!'_ He struggles and struggles and he still can't move. _Oh god no. Why? He wants to kill this thing more than he's ever wanted to kill anything in his life._

'Amazing how I developed these skills, I could fling things onto the roofs and not normal things, things like people. Using my eyes. I don't know what I am Sam, you see, I'm special, something about me is unbelievably rare to have these abilities. I loved it Sam, watching your mother up on that ceiling, staring down at you, her only concern for you. And then I heard your Dad running up the stairs and I was back in the closet, opening it long enough to see him stare up at Mary, and then I lit her up like a Christmas tree. Oh the look on his face, it was a classic.'

_Sam chokes back sobs as his body heaves silently. Why can't he get down?_

'Then your Dad grabbed you Sam. I didn't know what to do. No, he couldn't save you, I needed you dead. But then I realised, in changing your future, in murdering your mother, maybe I could have changed my own. He gave you to Dean. Poor kid, innocent bystander really. And John stood there screaming like a banshee, and I saw it Sam. I saw my moment. I threw open the closet and he looked at me, and he knew, he knew I'd killed his wife, and I smiled and when he reached out to grab me, I smiled, and you should have seen his face Sammy…'

He practically laughs with glee. 'You should have seen his face when he saw himself staring back at him.'

_Sam's heart sinks to the bottom of his chest and he can't breathe as he realises the implications of what this 'thing' is saying._

'I lit the place up. And I stood for a while in the flames, making sure he was gone. And when I was sure. I ran outside and I grabbed you two. And I had a future for a while, I was John Winchester. I hadn't planned on keeping you alive Sammy, but then I figured what the hell, sometimes I get lonely, being a sadistic life form can get oddly lonely sometimes. So I figured I'd raise you and Dean, and we'd all kill things together, if I played the grieving husband well enough, and if I killed enough things then I knew I'd survive. No one would find out. Turns out I enjoyed it, the hunt. But I can't tell you how many times I wanted to let those big bads we hunted kill you. A few times I even let you wander off, sent you to the danger spots, but oh no as usual Dean had to step in and go all big brother, protecting you. And I let him, till you went to College, I liked it having you out of the way for a while. To be honest I kind of liked Dean, we had fun together, he has some of the killer instinct you know. Still I followed you to college. Told Dean I was on hunting trip, to go on one alone, I couldn't take the risk, even knowing I'd changed our futures somehow, that you wouldn't kill me, you'd be the age you were when you had killed me in my vision, soon. And it was confirmed, when I saw you with her, with Jessica, and I knew, the game was going to be up. I knew I couldn't let you live much longer, I couldn't let you live.

Strange as it is Sammy, I felt the two of us were linked, forever, it was twisted, I hated you, but a part of me loved you, loved the kid I had brought up even knowing you were going to destroy me, even knowing I had to destroy you. What a stroke of luck for me that Dean was so concerned with my lack of contact that he showed up to get you. It was all so perfect. But you needed to be stopped. So I burned Jess first, hoped that would change your future once again, stop you from killing me. But nope the visions kept on coming. And I knew it. There was no way out.

You had to die.

It had to come to this Sam.

It had to come to right here.

This is where it had to happen I think I knew that from the very first moment, from that night as I stood over your crib.

Do you know where you are Sammy?

Can you taste your own death in the air?

_It's your destiny.'_

Sam can't talk. He doesn't know how the hell to respond to this. His father was dead, the man he thought was his father wasn't really his father in the first place, he'd been brought up by the very thing that had killed his parents and girlfriend.

The term, keep your friends close and your enemies closer suddenly became all too chillingly real.

Sam wanted to kill the thing, he wanted to choke the life out of it with his bare hands. His whole life had been a lie, a desperate, horrendous lie.

And so had Deans.

But in that moment it occurred to Sam how little he would care if it took his life right now, at least the pain would end, pain that all seemed to have stemmed from him. It was his fault. Everything was his fault.

His mom, his dad, his brother, his girlfriend, had all been punished for something his future self was supposed to have done. And because of that their lives, so many lives had been destroyed, had been senselessly taken.

'Are you ready Sam?'

Light suddenly filled the room and Sam finally looked down and realised where he was. He didn't notice the blood soaking his chest, nor the grinning face of the man he thought was his father, this was his room.

It was his nursery, and Sam was pinned, pinned to the ceiling.

_He didn't even notice the flames._

* * *

Dean ran, he ran faster than he'd ever run in his life out of the hotel room.

_Jesus…Sammy…No…_

His brother, his stupid, foolish, irresponsible little brother…of all the idiotic moves to pull, of all the ridiculous actions to take…he'd knocked him out…and left him…to stop him…to stop him protecting him…

Dean feels sick.

_Oh Sammy._

The impala isn't there and Dean knows immediately that Sam has taken it.

'YOU IDIOT SAMMY!' He screams as the heavens open and rain begins to hurl from the sky like a sprinkler in a garden. 'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!'

* * *

Sam feels the flickering of the fire, it singes his clothes, and his fingertips are nearly burning.

_Oh god, what does he do?_

_What the hell can he do?_

Below him the monster pulls out a cell phone and smirks before dialling it.

Sam closes his eyes, he is thinking of giving in.

He should give in.

His dad's voice…no the monster's voice has him freezing.

'Dean, Dean it's dad, you have to come, we're at the old house, help me, it's Sammy…'

'DEAN IT'S HIM!'

At the other end of the phone Dean grips the receiver so hard his knuckles turn white 'SAMMY? DAD? What's going on?'

'Get here now Dean…'

'No Dean don't listen…'

'Dean hurry.' His dad cuts Sammy's screams off.

Dean jumps out of the way as the car he flags down draws to a stop…

'I'm on my way.'


End file.
